Forced Submission

After serving time following a 'terrorism' incident, a local woman fights to keep the feds from taking her DNA

Mary Elizabeth Schipke sits with the dozen boxes that represent
her ongoing legal skirmish with the federal government since she was
convicted and labeled a terrorist more than four years ago.

On Oct. 15, 2004, Mary Elizabeth Schipke entered the Oracle post
office to buy a 47-cent stamped envelope. When she got frustrated with
the clerk behind the counter, she told her: "God, I pray a bomb falls
on your stupid, fucking head."

Almost a year later, Schipke was convicted of threatening a federal
facility with weapons of mass destruction. Schipke describes what she
told the clerk that day as an "imprecatory prayer"—basically, a
simple curse—but that defense didn't keep her from serving a
four-year prison sentence, with the last two years at Carswell, a
women's federal medical prison outside of Fort Worth, Texas, that has
been the subject of allegations about the questionable care of
prisoners with physical and psychiatric conditions.

Although now free and on supervised release, Schipke, 51, continues
to fight the federal government—this time, over a DNA sample
forcibly removed from her in prison. After her release, prison
officials realized that fingerprints needed to go along with the DNA
sample were apparently taken in a sloppy manner. Now, the government
wants a second DNA sample and a new set of fingerprints.

Schipke and her court-appointed attorney, Leslie Bowman, have taken
her case to the U.S. Court of Appeals to keep the government from
taking that sample—on the grounds of religious freedom. Schipke
believes her DNA is connected to her soul and what she calls the Divine
Maker.

"My DNA is completely unique, and it is sacred. How do I know what
they'll do with my sacred DNA?" she asks.

Schipke wouldn't be in her current position if the government hadn't
decided to prosecute the post-office case. Schipke says she wasn't much
of a threat in 2004; she spent most of her time in a wheelchair and got
by each month on disability assistance and food stamps. She says she
suffers from fibromyalgia, chronic-pain syndrome and a chemical
sensitivity disorder, among other illnesses.

Schipke says she often complained to the post-office staff about
dangerous potholes in front of the building.

"They didn't like me much," Schipke recalls as she pulls out a
transcript of the 911 phone call made by the clerk who reported the
alleged bomb threat.

On the transcript, the clerk is noted as laughing while describing
the incident to the 911 operator.

"I don't think you'd be laughing if you really thought I had a bomb,
would you?" Schipke asks.

Schipke describes numerous incidents in prison as
"torture"—including the forced retrieval of her DNA sample.

Federal facilities are required by the DNA Analysis Backlog
Elimination Act of 2000 to obtain DNA samples from inmates convicted of
"certain qualifying offenses." Those offenses were amended in the USA
Patriot Act to include acts of terrorism or crimes of violence.

Schipke was first asked to allow prison staff to take a DNA sample
in December 2007, but she refused. She refused again in February 2008,
March 2008 and April 2008. Each refusal came with a loss of privileges.
According to the law, if an inmate continues to refuse, the sample may
be collected by force—and that's what happened.

Schipke's attorney obtained a DVD made by Carswell officials that
shows guards dressed in SWAT gear preparing to enter Schipke's cell.
Through a small window, the camera shows Schipke holding the leg rest
from her wheelchair and swinging it in the air, as she yells that she
will not allow them to take her DNA. The guards move in; one each takes
an arm, a leg, her head and feet, and hold her down by pressing their
knees against her body.

Medical staffers quickly take blood samples and leave; then another
person arrives to take fingerprints. At full volume, you can hear
Schipke telling the guards to let go, because she isn't against
allowing them to fingerprint her. However, she isn't released until
another staffer reaches over the guards' bodies to clumsily take the
fingerprints.

According to the federal prosecutors' arguments filed with the 9th
Circuit, the government has a "compelling interest in obtaining the
defendant's DNA," because Schipke was convicted of a serious felony
offense: threatening to use a weapon of mass destruction.

The Tucson Weekly called the prosecutor on record, Assistant
U.S. Attorney Jonathan Granoff, for comment. Public information officer
Sandy Raynor responded that no representative was able to comment on
the case.

It's a charge Schipke should never have faced, says Bowman. Others
agree; in May, the American Civil Liberties Union filed an amicus brief
stating that while Schipke is often rude and offensive, she is not a
terrorist.

The brief states: "(S)uch is Mary Schipke's lot. She is quite
unlikable. She is rude, offensive and willing to make outlandish
statements either to draw attention to herself or to voice frustrations
with societal norms causing her perpetual grief. But she is no
terrorist. At least one clerk at the Oracle post office was familiar
with her abrasive conduct. Pre-9/11, Ms. Schipke's outbursts likely
would have won her a misdemeanor disorderly conduct prosecution.
Post-9/11, she is a convicted terrorist who presumably has a timeshare
in a B-52 bomber or perhaps connections to a radical terrorist cell,
that, strategic considerations be damned, seeks to bomb the Oracle post
office. This case represents a sad and absurd failure of prosecutorial
discretion ... that should prove a canary in the proverbial coal
mine."

However, prosecutorial discretion is not the focus of Schipke's
current case. Bowman explained in an e-mail that a temporary emergency
stay is in place preventing the court from allowing prison officials to
collect the second DNA sample. Bowman and Schipke, however, want the
case to go before the Court of Appeals. If the U.S. District Court
denies the stay, and/or if Schipke loses her appeal, Bowman wrote that
her client may choose another appeal—and she'll also have to seek
another emergency stay.

"If she refuses, a petition could be filed to revoke her supervised
release. That could result in her being taken back into custody. She
could also be charged with a criminal offense," Bowman wrote.

Aside from this battle over her DNA, Schipke says she's fighting for
her basic survival. Because of her felony conviction, she is no longer
eligible for Section 8 housing and had to reapply for disability
assistance.